


Don't Call It Chemistry

by ohnojustimagine



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Multi, Sex Work, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 05:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13117128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnojustimagine/pseuds/ohnojustimagine
Summary: Zelina thinks a professional will make things less complicated.





	Don't Call It Chemistry

You get hired by couples more than most people would think, more than you would have ever thought when you started in this business. Some of your best and most profitable regulars are couples, and mostly it's a fairly sweet deal. You get the occasional shitty booking, where the husband will insist on fucking you in front of his wife, who's clearly bored out of her mind while making a passing attempt at feigning interest or jealousy, but generally they're just looking for some pretty vanilla girl-on-girl stuff. The husband watches you make out with the wife and then go down on her, then he'll fuck her afterwards. Those are your favorites, because you don't get to eat pussy too often these days, and your clients are rich enough that the wives are usually extremely hot. The husbands, not so much, but for once that's not your problem.

These two, however, are _both_ extremely hot, but you're not sure what their dynamic is. Because they're very, _very_ clearly into each other (though he's far more careless about showing it than she is) but they're also obviously _not_ a couple. Business partners, you guess? Not that it matters, but you're curious, so you watch, and wait.

They're both still fully clothed: him in a crisp white shirt and dark gray suit pants, and her in a strapless black dress that's short and low-cut but expensive-looking, classy. He's sitting on the end of the bed and she's in a chair, shapely legs crossed, draped over one another in way that's making your mouth water.

You've taken off your own dress and are standing there in front of them in your bra and panties, hands at your sides. You're used to being stared at like this, examined and assessed as if you're an object, something only to be possessed, and it doesn't bother you. Not, at least, at the hourly rate you charge.

The man looks at you, then looks at the woman, and says, in Spanish, "I could go to a club, pick up a girl this hot and fuck her. Why do we need a hooker?"

"She's a professional," she replies, and you wonder if they assume you can't understand them or if they just don't care. You try to remember her name... Selena? No, you think, _Zelina_. It's a pretty name, you muse, as she goes on, saying, "I don't want any issues with you leading some girl on and her thinking she can get emotionally involved." Her voice is even, and it's clear she's someone who's used to people doing exactly what she tells them to do. "You need to think about your career, Andrade, now more than ever." 

"What about you?" he asks her, seemingly unmoved.

"What about me?"

"You said if I won the championship I could have whatever I wanted."

"I never said you could fuck me," she tells him, and you get the feeling this is a conversation they've had many, many times before. "I said I'd watch you fuck someone else, if that was what you wanted."

"What I want," he says, unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his chest, and _huh_ , you think, because he's even more built than you had assumed, well-muscled but _thick_ with it, "is to watch you and her."

"What?" Zelina asks.

He smiles, smug, like he's bested her in some way. "I want her to eat you out while I watch."

She stares at him for a long minute, without speaking, and you wonder if she's going to refuse, but then she shrugs, studiedly casual, and says, "If that's what you want."

His smiles widens into a delighted grin, and he gestures at you. "Kiss her," he says to Zelina.

She stands up, quite calm, and walks towards you, standing before you. You're not tall, but even in heels she's a little shorter than you, her face tilted up towards you. You can tell she's more nervous than she's letting on, her hands moving slightly, subtly, as if she's not sure what to do with them, so you take the initiative, placing your own hands on her waist, your touch light and careful.

She gives you a small, appreciative nod, and follows suit, her palms warm on your bare skin as she leans in, and you feel yourself hold your breath for a moment, waiting, until her mouth presses against yours. Her lips are full and soft, and you want more, but you let her set the pace, gradually opening up as her tongue licks its way into your mouth, lazily sensual.

You hear Andrade inhale sharply, and you decide to push things a little, sliding your hands slowly downwards until they're resting on Zelina's ass, feeling your way over the high, firm curve of it, squeezing lightly. She pulls away, breaking the kiss and glaring at you, and you don't say anything, but you meet her gaze as provocatively as you can, challenging. She rolls her eyes in reply, says, in English, "Fine," and kisses you again, deeper this time, reaching down and grabbing your ass so hard you wince. You hear Andrade laugh, and her touch eases off into a firm caress, pleasurable enough that you have to whine quietly.

"She's good," Andrade murmurs to himself, admiring, and Zelina steps back, licking her lips. You can see she's breathing more rapidly, her throat moving as she swallows, and you walk around behind her, unzipping her dress, sliding it off her body, letting it fall to the floor. She's not wearing a bra, so you fall to your knees in front of her, slipping your fingers under the edge of her black lace thong, caressing down her legs as you pull it off. Her thighs and calves are smoothly, leanly muscled, tight under your touch, and you shift slightly, realizing you're wet, that you're actually turned on.

 _Careful_ , you think to yourself, because genuine desire can be a dangerous thing when you're with a client, so you take a deep breath, lifting Zelina's feet one at a time, gently taking off her shoes and setting them aside.

"On the bed," Andrade says, voice low. He's taken off his shirt, and he's rubbing at the front of his pants and Zelina doesn't say anything, watching him for a minute before she climbs onto the bed, lying back, knees bent, feet spread wide enough that she's fully open before you. You can _see_ how aroused she is, but you suspect that has very little to do with you and what you've been doing, what you're going to do; what's turning her on is _him_ , the way he's looking at her, the way he's watching you.

You quickly remove your bra and panties, positioning yourself on your stomach between Zelina's legs, stroking her thighs, breathing in the scent of her, sweet and heady. Her pussy is as bewitchingly beautiful as the rest of her, and at first you only lap at it, delicately tasting, but then her hands are in your hair, dragging you closer, impatient, and you begin to eat her in earnest, sucking and licking, your tongue greedy on her.

You feel Andrade behind you, roughly pulling up your hips, pushing you so your knees are underneath you, and then his cock is at your entrance. You hurriedly reach back far enough that you can touch him, just to make certain he's wearing a condom, and normally you'd make him stop for long enough to get some lube but tonight there's no need, because you're so wet and ready that it only feels good as he slides into you. He's big, big enough that for a moment you lose your concentration, breathing in and biting your lip as he moves in and out of you.

You hear Zelina sigh in frustration and then snap, "Can you let her finish?"

Andrade laughs, breathless, and stills inside you. "Make her come," he tells you, and it's the first time he's spoken in English. "Make her come and then I'll fuck you for real, baby."

And, to your surprise, that's what you want, for her to come and for him to fuck you. It's been a long time since you were _with_ anyone like this, least of all a client; in the moment and fully present in your body instead of just vaguely dissociating, always at a slight remove from what's being done to you.

There's a connection between these two that's palpable, the chemistry in the air so thickly visceral it's affecting even you. 

You let out a moan and focus on Zelina, on her clit, tonguing it with what seems to be the right pressure and tempo. "Yeah," she gasps out, "like that." She tugs on your hair, grinding against your face, and you're not even sure you can breathe, but you don't care as her hips buck up, thighs close around your head, and she's coming, pussy tightening under your tongue as you lick her through it, wanting to taste every last moment.

And as soon as she's done, Andrade starts, beginning to fuck you rough and hard. You raise your head, leaning up on your arms, pushing back against his cock with each thrust. Zelina hasn't moved, lying beneath you, but it's Andrade she's watching, looking up at him with such naked, heated intensity that you can _feel_ it, and your own orgasm builds in response, peaking and then spilling over. You cry out, and Andrade drives into you one last time, grunting as he comes. 

He pulls out, tossing the condom and immediately dragging you forcefully up onto your knees, kissing you so deep you can barely catch your breath. It's _her_ he's chasing, not you, licking the taste of her out of your mouth with a desperate, almost violent ferocity, only stopping when there's nothing left.

They stare at each other, and you're still, quiet, aware this moment has nothing to do with you, waiting with something like trepidation. And you don't know what you're expecting will happen, but it's somehow oddly, weirdly disappointing when Zelina simply gets up and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

After a minute, you hear the shower running, and Andrade looks at you. "You can go now," he says, but it's not dismissive, not unkind. 

He sits on the bed, watching you as you dress yourself. You'd like to at least wash your hands, splash some water on your face and check your hair, but you get the very distinct impression that Zelina is not to be disturbed, so you don't ask. You're careful not to overbook yourself, so your next appointment isn't for a few hours, and you have time enough that you can go home to your apartment, clean up there. You smooth down your dress, slipping on your shoes, and Andrade stands up, walking over to where his pants are hanging over the back of a chair. He pulls a roll of bills out of the pocket, offering it to you. 

You hold out your hand, but then pause, wanting to make sure there's no misunderstanding, telling him, "You know she paid in advance, right?"

He gives you a small, amused smile, saying, "It's a tip."

"Oh," you say. You take the money, and you can tell by the feel of it that it's at least a couple thousand. _Nice_ , you think, slipping the money into your purse. "Thank you."

"Thank _you,"_ he says. He's more relaxed, surer of himself without her in the room, as if he's once again on steady ground, and it doesn't suit him, you notice, makes him seem smug and perhaps a little sleazy. You may not know him, but it's clear that Zelina is good for him, brings out his better self.

You wonder if he's aware of that.

"Call me," you say. "If you'd ever like to do this again."

"We might do that." He sits back down on the bed, and you note that _we_. Not _I_ but _we_ , and you smile.

"Well," you say. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

He nods, and you turn on your heel, feeling his eyes on you as you leave.


End file.
